


Shut Me Out

by purple_embroidery



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Activism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emails, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_embroidery/pseuds/purple_embroidery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can't just turn on a switch in my brain that says we can fix the world.<br/>The world is broken.<br/>If it wasn't, I wouldn't be broken either."</p><p>Enjolras and Grantaire have a huge fight.<br/>Grantaire's response gives Enjolras a lot of insight into his past, and they finally begin to understand each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to a song that seemed to include a lot of lyrics that fed my Grantaire head canon, so I sat down and wrote this.  
> It's unedited, angsty and kind of depressing, but I swear it'll have a happy ending.

Enjolras and Grantaire were fighting again. It had started with an offhand comment from Grantaire about the pointlessness of an upcoming protest, and culminated in the two screaming at each other while everyone else tried to stay out of it or (in Bahorel’s case) cowered behind Courfeyrac. Enjolras suddenly snapped and screamed at Grantaire that a life without belief was useless, and it made those without belief useless too . Grantaire paled, and stormed out of the Musain, and the others stared at Enjolras with a mixture of anger, shock and disgust. 

Grantaire wasn’t seen for a week, and in that time enough of the others had yelled at Enjolras that he’d finally realised what he’d done wrong. He’d tried to go over to Grantaire’s flat to see him, but the door remained locked and the phone remained unanswered. The artist had texted Eponine and Combeferre that he was OK, but no-one else had heard anything and he’d skipped his classes since the fight.

As a last resort, Enjolras pulled out his laptop and started composing an email to Grantaire. It may have been easy to delete but at least he could see the big heading of “I’M SORRY” before he trashed it.

 

 

_From:[enfantdelapatrie@gmail.com](mailto:enfantdelapatrie@gmail.com)_

_To:[absintheandoilpaint@yahoo.com](mailto:absintheandoilpaint@yahoo.com)_

_Subject: I’M SORRY_

_Body:_

_Grantaire,_

_I owe you an apology for our conversation on Saturday. I was incredibly angry at you, but it’s no excuse for what I said. I have regretted my outburst since it happened, but as I can’t see you, I wanted to write this to you instead. I really am very sorry for my outburst._

_However, I want you to know that I regret what I said, but I can never regret the sentiments behind my statement. I know it’s not a good time to challenge you on this, but I’d welcome the opportunity to talk to you about it at any time. And I’ll try to be more respectful of you, not only if we do have that discussion, but also in general. You have a way of getting me angrier than any of the others in Les Amis, and I don’t know why, but I still value you and your friendship. And I don’t show you that as often as I’d like._

_I hope you’re okay. I hope this email is okay. As you can probably guess, it’s not something I do very often._

_Enjolras_

Grantaire opened the email and read it through quickly. Then again. He stared at the screen for a while, absently biting his lip, then closed his laptop and walked away.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras had obsessively been checking his email since he’d sent Grantaire that email, but there’d been no answer and it had been a week. He’d almost given up on ever hearing from the artist again when a reply finally came in. But it wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

_From:[absintheandoilpaint@yahoo.com](mailto:absintheandoilpaint@yahoo.com)_

_To:[enfantdelapatrie@gmail.com](mailto:enfantdelapatrie@gmail.com)_

_Subject: RE: I’M SORRY_

_ <http://youtu.be/6lDV4rawD5M> _

__

Enjolras stared at his screen for a moment, then clicked on the link. It was a band he’d never heard of, singing a song that he didn’t recognise. The song started to play and he was confused – the melody was nice but the lyrics were a bit weird (why would you hang from an overpass?) but then the chorus started and he began to understand why Grantaire chose this song.

 

**"And I don't want to slide into apathy**  
 **And I don't want to die in captivity  
 **But these monsters  
 **Follow me around  
 **Hunting me down  
 **Try to wipe me out**********

**Yeah I was hiding away underwater**  
 **Waiting for distance and buying some time  
 **Trying to be two hundred thousand years younger  
 **So I could excuse myself from human kind  
 **'Cause I don't want to be a container  
 **Or a bastard with a ten page disclaimer  
 **But these monsters  
 **Spin me around  
 **Get me down!  
 **Just try to shut me out  
 **Shut me out"********************

He couldn't bring himself to reply, he didn't have a clue about how to respond, but Enjolras was thoughtful for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire opens up about his past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of past abuse.

He woke up the next morning and immediately checked his email, even though he was certain there'd be no further word from Grantaire. He scrolled through the usual clutter of links and videos from Courfeyrac, the poems and story ideas that Jehan had needed to express to someone, the notes from previous meetings that Combeferre unfailingly sent, and discovered a second email from Grantaire.

_From:[absintheandoilpaint@yahoo.com](mailto:absintheandoilpaint@yahoo.com)_

_To:[enfantdelapatrie@gmail.com](mailto:enfantdelapatrie@gmail.com)_

_Subject: RE: I’M SORRY_

_Enjolras,_

_This isn't something I write lightly, it's possibly one of the hardest things I've ever done. I want you to know me, just a bit better, so maybe you can understand why I choose to be cynical of the world around me._

_I don't write this for sympathy. I don't want your pity. I just want – no, I just need your understanding. Your comprehension of how the world works for some people._

_I grew up in a shitty home. I'm pretty sure you knew that. My father was a loving man when he was sober, and a cruel, sadistic monster when he drank. Mum and I tried to find help, tried to get out, but we were in a tiny country town, no one would risk going again my dad, who was quite prominent, quite respected in that shitty little town. We couldn't afford to leave, so we stayed._

_Dad died of cancer when I was 10. I've never missed him._

_After Dad died, Mum had to find work. He'd always made her stay home, made a big show of a traditional family unit, that he could support us so easily by himself. But when he died there was no money left, he'd deliberately spent it to keep it from us. So she had no experience, no credentials, and she couldn't find a job anywhere. We moved from town to town, Mum taking anything she was offered while I jumped from school to school. We were on benefits, and since I was over 8 it was an absolute pittance that we received. I noticed that that changed how kids at school talked to me. I wasn't Grantaire any more, I was the free-loader, the poor kid, the one with hand-me-downs and thrift store books. And Mum had had enough._

_My beautiful, precious, loving mother turned to prostitution so we had enough to eat. There are people who go into that profession because they genuinely want to. My mum didn't. It hurt, seeing her head out every night with a horrible look in her eyes._

_We survived, somehow. My art teacher at school pushed me into a scholarship, so I managed to go to university. I worked my ass off, so I didn't have to rely on Mum any more, and earned the scorn of my classmates because I was either studying (yes, Enj, I studied) or working, and I had no time for fun, for meeting my classmates. It meant too much to my mum that I'd managed to get into uni, I wasn't going to screw it up and disappoint her._

_It's not the hardest life, the one that I've had, but it was almost too hard for me._

_You may fight for social justice, for human rights, so that people don't go through what I went through. And If I was stronger, I'd fight with you. But I keep getting dragged back down, back into the hell I thought I'd escaped. I'm still just that kid who nobody wanted o talk to, the one who had to survive on charity and pity while every other kid in my class had more that they could ever want._

_I don't trust easily any more. I still get anxious when I see a man ins the street who looks like my dad. I save every cent I make from teaching my art classes, in the hope that my mum never suffers again. I keep an eye on my students, hoping that I can notice the warning signs and keep them from my fate. I'm on huge amounts of anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medication._

_So I can't just turn on a switch in my brain that says we can fix the world._   
_The world is broken.  
 _If it wasn't, I wouldn't be broken either.__

_Grantaire_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr, I'm embroideredcupcake
> 
> Some clarifications:  
> Grantaire is a high school art teacher.  
> In Australia, benefits for single parents were changed in the last year. If your child is over 8 you're expected to go back to the workforce, so the payment was dropped to the same level as the dole, and there are a lot of people struggling more than they already were.   
> Scholarships are available for studying at uni, and you can also get government help, but it's honestly not enough a lot of the time.


	3. Chapter 3

_From:[enfantdelapatrie@gmail.com](mailto:enfantdelapatrie@gmail.com)_

_To:[absintheandoilpaint@yahoo.com](mailto:absintheandoilpaint@yahoo.com)_

_Subject: Hey_

_Body:_

_Grantaire,_

_first, I just wanted to say thank you for sharing so much with me. I'm guessing it wasn't easy, and I feel lucky that you wanted to be open with me._

_Second, I'm not writing this because I want to make you a cause, or fix you, or erase your past._

_But I do kind of want to change your future._

_I can't tell you how to run your life, and even if I had the right to ask it of you, I wouldn't want to. What you and your mother achieved is amazing. You don't need interference from an over-privileged private school kid, which (as you've reminded me before, and surely will do again) I really am._

_But our little revolution could really use someone like you. Not just as an occasional member of our meetings, not just as a voice of dissidence, but as a true fighter. Your art alone could give us huge visibility (because, apart from anything else, Courf's stick figures are getting old). You understand what we're fighting for, more than anyone else in Les Amis. We'd love to have your passion and intelligence, and yes, even your cynicism. You understand people so well, so much better than I do. We'd be all the better for having you amongst us._

_Look, I know that you're shaking your head at the screen right now. Life has dumped you at the bottom of the heap. But think of this: if we can stop even one kid from going through everything you went through, then surely it would be worth it?_

_I want you by my side. Even if we never agree, even if you can't see the world changing. I feel better when I'm near you, just knowing that you're there._

 

_You once told me that if you had to believe in anything, you'd believe in me._

_Well, I believe in you too. You inspire me, Grantaire. You always have._

_Enjolras_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> The song is "Monsters" by Something For Kate. 
> 
> I'm embroideredcupcake on tumblr, please tell me what you think!


End file.
